Ascension 88: Kagura Ohzora/Bruce Irwin vs. Victor Makarov/Vikram

[ABMorales787]

It's an international incident as 4 totally different people from 4 totally different cultures clash in a tag team match. Vikram and Victor Makarov look to pick up some steam but have to go through the more established but still fresh off the box talents in Bruce Irwin and Kagura Ohzora. Who will prevail?

Deadline: Jan 6th, extensions as requested.
​

 

[Dave]

I was always nervous when Victor entered the WZCW ring. It sounded cynical but I realised that if something should happen to him that would cut his career short, then that would be it for me, too. Everything I had, I had sunk into his success. Gas money from show to show, plane tickets, wrestling gear; it all came out of my pocket.

But I also remember standing backstage at Ascension 87 as Victor faced off against El Califa Dragon and elegANT. I watched him upset the odds and pull of a win against two of the most charismatic and thoroughly likeable men in WZCW. I watched him deliver Mother Russia to the unfortunate Ant who faced him. And as the referee's hand came down for the three count and the end of the match, I realised that I had nothing to worry about.

You see, what become abundantly clear to me, was that Victor was a special breed of man. He might have been an asshole at times, and maybe he didn't care about me and my future the same way I cared about his. But what he did care about was wrestling. He craved causing damage and pain to those who stood across a ring from him. And as he marched up the ramp of Ascension 87, his hand placed across his heart as the Russian national anthem blared out to a hostile American crowd, it become crystal clear that Victor was in WZCW to stay. Sick, incapacitated or even dying, you could bet your bottom Ruble that he would in that ring until his last breath.

It seemed like, this time at least, I had made a good career choice, thrust upon me or not.

* * *​

The drive to Florida promised to be a long one, just like the drive to Louisiana was. With Victor's wrestling gear in the passenger seat this time, and the massive Russian maniac in the back, my banged up wreck struggled to make it up any hills. But, at least this time my hand wouldn't sensually graze the leg of the Russian every time I had to change gear.

I remember that journey being a lot better than the last. I made sure that he was satiated with enough Slim Jims to keep him happy for the duration of the trip.

But the tone thing I remember most about the Russian was his complete disregard for anything that didn't happen inside a wrestling ring. It didn't make a difference to him that I was running low on money. It didn't phase him that he had to travel from show to show in the back of a banged-up old Mini; short of room and luxury features. And it certainly didn't bother him that he had to share that journey with me.

I thought about it a lot as we drove to Florida in complete silence, only the sound of the labouring engine for company. Was he happy to be around me? Did he appreciate everything that I had done for him so far? Or was it far more likely that he seen me as a means to an end? Did he simply realise that without me taking him from show to show, giving him money to but Slim Jims and supporting him; that he wouldn't even be able to compete? It occurred to me that perhaps Victor was smarter than I had initially given him credit for the moment he showed up on my doorstep. But it also occurred to me that I was using him in a way. Without him, my future was bleak. I was hanging onto his coat-tails in search of some glorious new future alongside him. But I become all to aware that he could go on without me. With his name starting to mean something in WZCW, I was positive that he would be catered for if he decided to cast me off without so much as a “thank you” or “good bye”.

But there he was, lying horizontally in the back of my Mini, obscuring the back window with his gigantic frame. It actually made me happy to think that he chose this in some ways. Like I said, he could have made a fuss with WZCW Management and got them to fly him to Florida but he never tried. I guess that is the advantage of him having no tongue and no means to overcome a language barrier. But I must admit, that for the first time since I took Victor on this whirlwind adventure, that I was truly happy and thankful that it happened. He had shown himself to be a true warrior. He had paid dividends in terms of the time and effort that I had put in. Finally, I could relax in the knowledge that as long as I made it to each and every show with the Russian safely in tow, then he would do the business in the ring. I looked in the mirror at him, his back turned towards me, and I smiled for the first time in what seemed like forever.

We made it all the way to Tallahassee without having to stop for gas this time, the Russian still napping in the back. And as I got out of the car, I was sure not to wake him. To be honest, I liked the quiet drives. And he liked to sleep, so it really was a match made in Heaven. And when you consider what happened last time we had stopped for gas, I thought it was better to just go solo with this one. I filled up the car and headed inside. It must have been my good mood but I picked up some more Slim Jims for the Russian too before heading back outside. As I neared the car, his bulky frame become evident in the front seat, convulsing and moving like I had never seen before. I wasn't gone for long but he had obviously climbed into the front.

“What the Hell?!” I remember looking at the shadowy mass and thinking that he was going into a fit or something. I ran to the car, worrying about the man who had all my hopes and dreams pinned to him. I quickly opened the door as he spun his head round to look at me.

Spoiler

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I think, for the first couple of seconds, I couldn't believe what I was seeing. I think I remember my jaw hitting the floor as I looked at the massive Russian wrestler; the same man who struck fear into my heart on every single occasion I had met him, give the best rendition of Hold the Line on an air guitar that I had ever seen. His eyes were bright with pleasure and his body language suddenly positive. I had to collect myself for a moment but found myself laughing as I got in the car beside the Russian, tossing the Slim Jims into the back and heading to Florida.

Me, The Russian and Toto for company.

 

[Richard Blonoff]

Deadline has been extended by 24 hours.

 

[Bernkastel]

After several weeks of living in America I was finally getting used to the travel. I loved seeing all the different cities and meeting new people. And such diversity! None of the cities ever really looked the same and I had already seen such a rich mix of cultures. Walking down a street with Gozaburo-san I’d often point and inquire whether or not the man in front of us was a foreigner or a citizen. In Japan foreigners were easy to spot. They stood out. But in America a man that didn’t speak English as his first language and wasn’t white had been born in this country, had been educated here, and held a good job supporting a family that he could raise while retaining his heritage and culture. When I was still a girl going to school we had learned about the “American Dream.” For us Japanese the dreams that we had were to honor ourselves and our parents by receiving a good education and finding a job that we excelled at. Even if that meant following our parents into their line of work, and having been brought up as a miko I hadn’t been any different from many of my classmates.

It was as if our destinies had been set by the time we had been born and the “dreams” that we all had were the fulfillment of that destiny.

After moving to this foreign land so far away from my small Japanese town, having spoken to a variety of men and women through the help of my sensei I was beginning to realize that “destiny” wasn’t set in stone. Getting an opportunity to wrestle for a company like WZCW was proof that I had changed mine… or at least I had the fortune of adding a side chapter to my life that would have never come to pass otherwise. Maybe that musing had been wrong. Maybe our destinies are set in stone the day we are born, but we as individuals possess the power to decide which path to follow.
Though the opposite would have been true as well, as a man born to live out an unfortunate destiny had the power to change it in return for his life, but such an act would have brought shame to himself and his family, right?

As I mused I started to examine my sensei. Gozaburo-san had changed his destiny. His father had wanted him to follow a path that he had no desire of navigating, and so he left Japan and came to America. In the process he renounced his family, his heritage, and his culture. Isn’t that the same thing as giving up one’s life?

My thoughts were shattered by a loud noise as Gozaburo-san dropped a book on the table. He had a stern look in his eyes.

“Start practicing your English skills. I am not always going to be around to babysit you and play translator.”

I picked up the book and frowned. Thumbing through it I realized that it was an advanced skills book that I had no chance at mastering at the moment. I had started to pick up certain words and phrases from various coworkers while on the road, but I still mostly kept to myself. In order to make him happy I had begun doing drills to improve my speech. But apparently I wasn’t moving at a pace he liked.

---​

Later that afternoon we traveled to the arena where preparations for the next show were already underway. WZCW brass needed to do some new promo shots with me to further enhance my image. I was a little uncomfortable showing off allot of skin, and Gozaburo-san had to nudge me - although I would have called it forceful persuasion – to gain my cooperation. And so I found myself in an outfit that I had deemed too skimpy for my liking in front of a camera for the next several hours. In order to move the process along while keeping up with the demands of the impatient and pushy photographer I did everything that I was told. Afterwards I had a few choice English words for Gozaburo-san to express my frustrations, in which he responded by giving me another ill fated lecture about politics.

“This business is all about giving and taking. Your image was getting stale and the brass wanted to spice things up a bit for the winter promotions. You have merchandise now. You’re popular. Men see you and they get excited and will pay to have a poster of you in a skimpy outfit on their wall. It’s simple economics; supply and demand. Men think you’re attractive, you dress sexy for them, and they will buy more merchandise.”

My heart sank. But only because I was brought up to be a modest girl and I wasn’t used to that kind of attention. And his sarcastic tone left me with a feeling of exasperation.

As we walked from the photo shoot he switched gears. The weather was warm for this time of year, or at least it might have been the location. I was expecting snow and ice since I knew how bad weather tended to get in places so I suppose the outdoor portion of the shoot could have been much, much worse.

“It’s a new year Kagura. You’ve hit a rut the past few weeks but this is your chance to turn everything around. Wipe the slate clean and pull out a victory.”

Over the last few weeks I had seen my share of unfortunate losses. At first I thought nothing of it as I was still trying to build some momentum for myself. But the match against Dorian Slaughter caught me totally off guard. I was not expecting his sudden metamorphic evolution into a bigger evil than I had felt during my meditation. I feared that I was becoming rusty.

“I know. For New Years I wrote down the names of every opponent that I had faced, regardless if I had won or lost, and tied the piece of paper to a wish tree out of respect for their efforts and to thank them for the gift of camaraderie, but the branch broke.”

I sighed. In Shinto that was a sign of a bad omen. When that happened I panicked.

“I don’t know what that means for me, perhaps I have been too close minded to think that everyone that I have met so far would be fair opponents, would be kind to me, would not wish harm on me, would not try and stomp on my efforts to be a good person. But I realize know that being here is not a game, nor is it a contest. I realize now that I had been sheltered while wrestling in Japan. There weren’t rivalries like what I see here, there was blood, sweat, tears, and fight. You earned respect by fighting and proving your worth. But here in WZCW I feel like I must step over the bodies of my comrades in order to get ahead. But I am not that kind of person. I will not sink so low and stab someone in the back in order to get ahead!”

I had stewed on this for a long time and I was beginning to seethe. My body was racked with emotion and I hated the way I felt.

“I feel like I’m being poisoned by an urge to get revenge on those that have beaten me. It’s no longer about a simple contest now. But I don’t know, I DON’T KNOW!”

I grabbed my head and massaged my temples. “I don’t know if I’m ready to change and truly start to embrace the notion of war. Because that’s what being a WZCW superstar is really all about. War.”

Gozaburo-san nodded and smiled. “War is a terrible thing. And it traumatizes the mind and makes us rationalize thoughts that would otherwise be deplorable. But that is human nature.”

I shook my head. “But it’s not my nature, or at least I don’t want it to be. This week I have a chance to take that next step in this tag team match. Bruce Irwin is man that I have beaten before. He is a giant bulldozer of a competitor and I suppose he doesn’t feel like I’d be much use to him seeing as I haven’t been able to build any momentum. Our opponents are even newer recruits to the company than I am. But I can already sense their desire to do whatever it takes to win.”

That frustrated me. I turned to Gozaburo-san.

“Am I a coward for wanting to be a good sport? Is it really that big of a crime to want to face an opponent as an equal rather than using them as a stepping stone? I never wanted any of that to happen. And I feel that if I start to disrespect my opponents like that, I’ll lose sight of whom I am.”

He folded his arms as we continued walking in silence. Then after some musing he spoke.

“I’m not the type of man to be giving you this kind of advice. I did everything I could to step on my opponents to get ahead. I didn’t have many allies in this business. When you make the decision to fight not for sport but for your livelihood you start to change. Your morals bend. You start to see people as obstacles rather than honorable opponents.”

He turned to look at me.

“You see those two men in front of you as obstacles don’t you? They aren’t comrades or equal competitors like you once thought.”

I nodded. He sighed.

“That’s the nature of this kind of war.”

“And my tag team “partner” is not really an ally. We are forced to mesh together just for the sake of trying to survive to the next match. What kind of existence is that? It’s rather barbaric!”

I clenched my fists.

“I would rather see these men as equals but deep down I know that they aren’t. And that change in my rationale frightens me.”

We continued to walk; the sounds of our footsteps began to echo in my mind. I was lost. I did not want to see the outcome of this battle through the flames. I no longer trusted my clairvoyance. This was a turning point for me and I knew it. I only hoped that no matter the outcome that I could still hold onto my honor.